Tears
by labelbasher
Summary: AU. Sara plus Syringe plus Morphine equals Bad Idea! Set just after the escape, when Sara is tempted to go back to her old habits. Oneshot. MiSa of course!


Hey guys, this is my very first Prison Break fic. I've had this idea floating around in my jumbled mind for a while, and I finally got time to get it written down. I hope you enjoy it. I don't often do oneshots, (and this could very well turn into a multi chapter story…I have lots of ideas…) but I decided that I wanted to give myself a challenge to keep things short!

It might be a little clichéd in parts, but there really isn't much to write in this particular timeframe that hasn't already been written. But in saying that, I have tried my best to take things from a different angle. Oh, and the end is a little cheesy, and fluffy…

Anyway, enough rambling, on to the fic!

Oh, and I'm not one of those authors that demands reviews, but in saying that, reviews are an author's best tool, and I would love to know what you guys think, so that I can make my writing better.

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Sara Tancredi sat on the cream coloured leather couch in the lounge of her apartment with her head in her hands. Another tear ran down her cheek, following in the wet tracks that the many before it had made. She could not remember the last time she had cried so much, and that confused her. She didn't think of herself as an overly emotional person, and she didn't even know why she was crying.

Well, if she listened to her heart, she did, but she refused to believe that it was because of a certain inmate. Ex-inmate now. Currently, a fugitive on the run. One of America's Most Wanted criminals. But logic deemed her heart's desires impossible. It was not an appropriate relationship. She was the doctor and he was the inmate.

A con.

A manipulator.

End of story.

Well, it should have been the end of the story. Michael Scofield was far too addictive for his (and her!) own good.

Today had been a long day or reflection and thought for Sara, but despite that, Sara had not come to any conclusions, and that frustrated her to no end. And that frustration was only one of hundreds of emotions coursing through her mind. It was overwhelming.

It brought back a need that she thought she had left long behind her. And that thought scared her more than anything. That after all she had been through, after how far she had come, that she could take hundreds of steps back all at once and spiral back down into what she used to be.

Sara hated the person she became when she used. She hated how it affected her thinking, how it made her do stupid things, how it made her powerless.

But oh how it called out to her.

To numb.

To forget.

Just for a little while.

Maybe even forever.

Sara looked down at her hands as fresh tears spilled down her cheeks. In one hand she held a syringe, the metal glinting as it reflected the light from the one light she had on in her apartment. Her other hand was tightly fisted around a small object, and she slowly opened her hand to reveal her greatest desire and her greatest weakness. A vial of morphine.

Oh, how Sara loathed her weakness at that moment. She wanted to blame someone for this – her father, for not being there; her mother, for dying; Michael, for making her care, making her want to care. But deep down, she knew that she could not blame them. This was solely her decision, and she only had herself to blame.

Sara took a deep breath and with shaking hands, pierced the top of the morphine vial with the syringe and drew some of the clear liquid out. She placed both the syringe and drug on the coffee table as she reached for the elastic band she was going to use to tie around her upper arm. After securing the elastic, she picked up the morphine filled syringe and hovered the sharp point momentarily above her arm, before lowering the syringe tip to her skin, pressing against her skin, but not yet hard enough to break the surface. She took one last deep breath and was about to push the syringe in, when her cell phone range. Taken by surprise, Sara jerked her hand away from her arm, accidentally flinging the syringe halfway across the room, where it landed harmlessly in the plush carpet.

Thoroughly shaken, Sara reached for her bag and pulled out her ringing cell phone, but as she did, a blank envelope fell out of her bag.

Ringing cell phone forgotten, Sara looked down at the envelope, wondering what it was doing there, as she didn't remember putting it in there, and she was not one to forget something like that.

Sara reached down and picked up the envelope, turning it over in her hands, to see if there was anything written on it to identify what it may contain.

The ringing of the cell phone stopped abruptly and filled the apartment with an eerie silence as Sara lifted the unsealed flap of the envelope and pulled out a single piece of lined white paper.

It had her name written in a careful, deliberate print at the top of the paper. Thinking she may have an idea whose writing this was, she flicked her eyes down to the bottom of the page, where the letter 'M' was printed at the bottom of the letter.

Her heart skipped a beat as her guess was confirmed. Anxious to know what Michael might have written to her, she quickly jumped back up to the body of the letter and read carefully.

_Sara,_

_I know this may be hard to believe right now, but I truly never meant for things to happen like this. I hope in time I will get the chance to fully explain to you why I did the things I did. Like I said, there are answers to the questions you have about me.  
I went into Fox River meaning to use everyone as a way of getting what I wanted, but I should have known that in life people can't be manipulated that way. Lincoln always tells me that for someone so smart, I sure do some dumb things sometimes. And I guess that's true.  
I have a lot of apologies to make, and I want to start with you. Sorry doesn't seem like enough, the English language doesn't have a word for how bad I feel that I had to do this to you. I don't expect you to forgive me right now, I just wanted you to know that I am sorry.  
I also want you to know that when I kissed you that day, there was no ulterior motive, no reason to do it other than because I care for you.  
I lied when I told you that the man I was died when I walked into Fox River. He's still around. He's a little broken, a little battered and bruised, but he's still around somewhere. Sara, I would love for you to meet that man.  
I won't ask you again to wait for me again, as that wasn't fair on my part, but I will wait for you.  
After all, I do believe I owe you a cup of coffee.  
Take care._

_With love,_

M 

Syringe and morphine forgotten, Sara read the letter three times over, fresh tears spilling down her cheeks with each new reading. But this time, these tears were not tears of pain. They marked the beginnings of healing.


End file.
